Sewn with Joy (3 page)

Abraham shook his head, not believing him. “So…is
she
that young lady you were talking to after church on Sunday?”

Matthew paused. He cocked one eyebrow. “She?”

“She'll be there, won't she? That pretty young woman? That's why you're in such a hurry.” Abraham grinned. “
Ne
man smiles that big because of a sandwich.”

“I saw my
mem
making a Florida orange broccoli salad,” Matthew offered. “Maybe I'm in a hurry for that.”

“
Ja
, but even that doesn't account for the glimmer in your eyes. She's one of the Miller girls,
ja
? Are you courting?”

The twinkle in Abraham's eye was one of excitement for his friend, not interest. Matthew's defenses dropped. A chuckle escaped his lips, and he was amazed how Abraham had been paying so much attention without saying a word. Had everyone in Pinecraft figured it out? It was a small place. With only three hundred year-round residents, everyone knew everyone's business. But they all took care of each other too, when someone needed help or encouragement. Those were two sides of the same coin, he supposed.

Matthew clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I'm not so sure what question you want answered first, but
ja
, I've been fancy on Joy Miller for a while, but things have gotten more
serious of late. She's going to be at my parents' house hanging curtains, or at least that's the plan.”

Abraham's whistling stopped. “Sounds like your parents like her then.” His shoulders squared. More than once Matthew's father had sat down with Abraham to discuss his interactions with
Englisch
girls. His father took his role as bishop seriously.

“
Ja
, both
Mem
and
Dat
approve of Joy—what's not to approve of? But I'm curious,” he teased. “Why do you ask? Are you interested in one of the other single sisters? Both Faith and Grace have yet to have a beau.”

“Nice try attempting to turn the attention to me.” Abraham removed his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, causing his dark hair to cling to his hairline with sweat. “It's just that a lot of folks around here have thought you'd be a bachelor for life.”

Matthew ran a hand down his face. “Am I that homely? Thanks a lot.”

“Not because of you, but of your parents. You have to admit your father has high standards.”

“He's the bishop. That's his job.”

“Ja.
Just tellin' you what's been said. And”—he shrugged—“they're also saying your standards are right up there with his.” Andrew turned back to his work. “But since you seem to have found the perfect Amish girl, there shouldn't be a problem now, should there?”

 

Florida Orange Broccoli Salad

Salad

1 head broccoli, chopped into bite-size pieces

½ cup sliced red onion

1 11-ounce can mandarin oranges, drained

Dressing

½ cup salad-dressing mayonnaise

1 tablespoon vinegar

3 tablespoons sugar

½ tablespoon vegetable oil

½ teaspoon salt

Mix dressing ingredients in a bowl. Toss with broccoli, onion, and oranges just before serving. Makes 6 servings.

Three

Success in marriage is not only finding the right person; it's being the right person.

A
MISH PROVERB

S
omething from outside caught Joy's eye as she smoothed the white fabric of the curtains. It was an Amish bachelor striding down the road. Not just any Amish bachelor, but Matthew Slagel, the bishop's son and the man she was falling in love with. She watched from the window as Matthew walked toward his parents' house. He was tall, lean, toned, and handsome. The sleeves of his homemade blue shirt were rolled up, showing the muscles of his forearms, and the two top buttons of his shirt were undone, allowing her to peek at the tanned skin of his neck. She dropped her chin, embarrassed by the thoughts running through her mind. Thoughts of being kissed by him. Being held.

“Oh, those look lovely!” His mother's voice broke through her thoughts.

Joy turned, caught by surprise. She'd been unaware that the bishop's wife had walked into the living room. Had she seen Joy staring at her son? Heat filled Joy's face, and she quickly turned back to the curtains. If the woman could read her sensuous thoughts she no doubt would quickly usher Joy out of her home. But she seemed to be focused on her birthday gift instead.

Joy dared to turn and peer into the older woman's face. “The curtains do hang nicely, don't they? I'm so glad you like them.”

If Jeanette Slagel had noticed Joy's gawking, it hadn't bothered her. The only emotion on the woman's face was happiness.

“
Ja
, just look how much those curtains brighten up this room! So white, and just perfect.”

Joy stepped back to take them in. They provided a freshness to the place and were indeed just what the bishop and his wife expected of everything in their lives—flawless, unmarred, and untainted.

“Oh, I see Matthew coming. I have some seafood chowder on the stove and biscuits. I also made his favorite broccoli salad. Would you like to stay for lunch?”

Joy took a deep breath. “Seafood chowder? Is that what smells so wonderful?” She took Jeanette's hand in hers. “If it's not too much trouble.” Guilt tinged the corners of her heart. Both she and Matthew had hoped for this invitation, expected it. No Amish woman in Pinecraft would fail to offer lunch when a guest happened to be in their home near noontime.

The front door opened, and Matthew walked in. Joy found him stunning despite the fact he was sweaty and sprinkled with sawdust.

“Let me just get out another bowl.” As Jeanette hurried toward the kitchen, she called back to her son. “You better wash up, Matthew, and don't forget to clean under your nails.”

Joy chuckled at the chiding.

“
Ja, Mem.
” He offered Joy a humored grin and then watched his
mem
retreat before hanging his straw hat on the hook by the front door. But instead of hurrying to the bathroom to wash up, he moved closer to Joy. The tenderness and care in his blue eyes caused her to squirm. His hair where his hat brim had been was
pressed in a circle. His forehead was moist with perspiration, and even his lashes spiked from moisture.

Her heart hammered. Prickles moved up and down her arms as if she'd just been poked by a thousand tiny needles. “Hot out there?”

“Just a little, but I've already forgotten about the misery of it.”

“Really, how?”

He offered a crooked smile and kept his eyes fixed on hers. “Oh, just seeing you makes the whole day better. I'm glad you're here. You must have been at the shop extra early to see that those curtains got done.”

“I was at the shop before six and…” Should she admit she even skipped breakfast to make sure she got her sewing finished in time to see him? Her stomach offered the smallest growl. “I'm just happy it worked out. It made all the hard work worth it.”

Joy dropped her chin. Matthew tipped it up with one finger and studied her face before a grin turned up the corner of his mouth. “You know how to make a man feel loved, you know that?”

Her lips parted slightly, and then closed again. In the three weeks they'd been spending so much time together, neither had used the word
love
. Joy had considered it. She'd believed the growing feelings she had for Matthew were love, and hoped he felt the same. But to hear the words…she released a heavy sigh.

“I'm glad you feel that way. Because I—”

“Matthew,
kume
eat your lunch before you run out of time. You know how your
dat
feels about long lunches.”

Joy looked around, for the first time realizing who wasn't around—Matthew's father, the bishop.

“Your
dat
isn't here?”

“
Ne.
There's a meeting. It seems a television show about the
Amish has permits to film in Pinecraft, and some of the men wanted to talk to
Dat
about it.”

A giggle burst from Joy's lips. “
Amish
and
television.
Those are two words that don't usually go together.” She motioned to the kitchen and followed as Matthew led the way. “Do you know what this television show is all about?”

He turned to wash his hands in the kitchen sink as his
mem
placed a pot of steaming chowder on the table.

“Not really.” He shrugged. “That's what my
dat
is going to find out. And if he can, put a stop to it.”

They ate sitting side by side, with Matthew's
mem
sitting across from them, rattling off a list of folks who'd just arrived for the season on the Pioneer Trails bus. “Lydia Hershburger traveled down from Lenora, Minnesota, to Akron, and then she caught the bus with her sister's family. Lydia and I went to school together ages ago. Still, when she got off the bus I nearly ran to her. I would have recognized that face anywhere, especially when she smiled and displayed those two matching dimples.”

They listened for a few more minutes, and then Matthew rose. “Well, make sure you tell everyone hello for me,
Mem
. It'll be
gut
to see everyone at church on Sunday.” Then he looked at Joy and nodded his head toward the side door.

Joy stood and turned to her host. “
Danke.
Lunch was delicious. Can I help with the dishes?”

Jeanette waved a hand. “Tsk-tsk. You have to be joking. It's
ne
trouble at all. Three bowls. How hard is it to wash three bowls? Besides, I believe my son wants to show you something in the garage.” She lowered her voice. “But please don't tell me what it is. My birthday is coming up, and even though he already gave me the curtains, Matthew insists he has one more gift for me. I want to be surprised.” She squinted up at her son with a wrinkled nose and wide smile.

“
Mem
, I told you I'm making you a wooden spoon.”

“Oh,
gut
. Maybe I'll be able to keep this one for cooking. I never could manage it when you were growing up. Either I used them for smacking your bottom or you used them to dig in the dirt.”

Joy crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, was he a willful one?”

Jeanette chuckled again and checked the hair at the back of her neck. “
Ne
, that was a joke. It was just the opposite. Matthew has always been
gut
. Too
gut
.”

“Too
gut
? I've never heard a mother say that before.”

“Well, maybe not too
gut
, but he never did give me a lick of trouble. His older brother, Will, spent enough time bent over my knee for the two of them. But Matthew did like to use all my spoons to dig in the dirt!”